


the sea is our home

by yenso



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non-Explicit Sex, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-06-26 00:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yenso/pseuds/yenso
Summary: He arrives upon the shore on a rainy day, soaked, smile crooked. He is fire waltzing in Chung's domain, with a single request for the sea god: temporary respite deep within the ocean.Chung thinks little of it. In a realm where the god's fire was barely worth a grain of salt, he was bound to leave within a few days and they'd never see each other again. Gods don't interfere with other gods' personal business, after all.Yet this fire god— this rainy day visitor, always walking where his flames do not belong— seems to disagree with that.





	1. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins what is probably going to be a very long journey. 
> 
> I'd like to address right now that the reason this fic is rated M (pretty obvious, I would think) won't happen until close to the very end of this entire thing.

_We are forgotten_

_We disappear_

_But the love doesn't_

_To you my dear friend_

_The one who helped me dearly_

_There is love. [01] _

He arrives upon the shore on a rainy day, soaked, smile crooked.

Chung has lived alone with the sea creatures for some time now in the palace of the water god. Anywhere water could touch was his rule and his domain, though this law hasn’t been in effect for a very long period of time. He passes the ticking hours, days, years by talking to the fish, listening to the sounds the oceans relayed from the coasts with a crown of hollows adorned on his head. The symbol of his power gleams silver, with cerulean blue encrusts and glimmers of obsidian black. Chlamys cloaks of the deep blue sea, wrapped around the entirety of his body, hug him far too loosely— ghastly, even— as royal blue adorn his body unfittingly. But he sees little choice in such. The robes, he knows, belongs on larger shoulders— shoulders strong enough to carry the seven seas, not these frail ones that can only cower behind them.

There’s little point in mulling over it, regardless, and he deals with it anyway.

Still, he keeps his guns by his side and tries to do the best he can in ruling the ocean. The waters respond to him almost naturally, the sensation blending like a second layering around his body. Not quite being a match made in heaven, but the water fit him like a glove. They calmed from their wild, unmanned onslaughts of tsunamis as soon as he took over, settled down by his hand, and quieted into a silent, observational unison with him as he watched the world turn on its axis.

The world felt heavy.

He does little, keeping the tides low and stopping as many disasters as he could as to not draw attention to himself. Sometimes, he sees the sky light up and thunder crash and the ground below him rumbling, so he picks up the shooters crafted by his ocean hands, slams his foot into the ocean floor, and calls for the sea to bring him to the surface to just... watch. Perched on a high tide, legs dangling off the tip of sea foam, he stares at the sky and counts the intervals between flashes of light and rumbling ground.

What little he knows about the news of other gods comes from the whispers of merpeople that walk through his halls. The recently dethroned goddess of the Underworld, Luciela R. Sourcream, apparently turned a mortal into her fellow god and laid waste to a minor succubus goddess named Karis, and now they aimed to rule the realm dually with the issue of a challenge for the multitude of minor gods that also sought to rule the underworld. To this day, the throne room remained vacant and constantly splattered in golden blood. Rumoredly this whole ordeal caused a fit for Ain, the supreme god of the sky, leading to that massive thunderstorm just the other day when he caught wind of it. As far as Chung knows, the chaotic energy that is practically pouring out of the entry into the underworld agitates many, thus the sky flashes and booms in a giant ‘shut the fuck up’ to the underworld and the ground rumbles in ‘we fucking can’t’ in return. Lu seems to be recovering from the fatal blow do her powers, slowly picking herself back up, for each time the sky rumbled the river that connects the mortal realm to the underworld responds in kind with bursts of blue, four-pointed stars.

Chung simply wraps his cloak around himself more snugly and continues to observe. He _could_ intervene. He certainly had the powers to do so. But it wasn't his business to intervene. Problems only involve him when his territory is breached after all, and just as he hasn't started any issues with the other gods and goddesses for the entire time he's been ruling, they haven’t checked in on him either. Really, everyone was only concerned with themselves in the end.

Water sloshes against the sand in the pitch of the night. Footprints tread from the far shore to the foot of the waves.

"My lord," The secretary, Daisy, tanned with silvery hair and sharp golden eyes, comes to visit with papyrus and feather ink. He hears her presence with the all-too-recognizable clack of her heels first before her voice. She bows her head before him.

Chung quirks an eyebrow at her, the side of his head propped by his hand, elbow resting on the armrest of the throne. He halts from sifting through the papers in his other hand, packed with prayers and deciding if one, he could answer them within his powers, and two, if the prayer was even worthy of it.

"There is someone calling for you," She shifts the strap of her chiffon upon her shoulder, then jerks a finger up, "on the shore."

"Do you know who it is?" He asks, dropping the papers and moving them with gentle nudges of water, letting them float above his head. With a push off the armrest, he gets off of the throne and descends the stairs toward her, grabbing his cloak drifting next to him and throwing it over his tunic, quickly putting on the clasps with his scarf. He strides right past her into the marbled aquatic halls outside the throne room. As if lured by bait, she follows behind him, papers clutched to her chest like she had some sense of duty to maintain, her eyes only ever falling upon his back. Beams of moonlight passing through the photic region gently illuminate the water, a rich blend of blue and light sea green encompassing the world around them as bare feet move wordlessly.

"I believe so, my lord."

A careful, slight tilt of his head to look at her, one look prompts her to continue. She looks back down as soon as he turns his head.

"The younger brother of Elesis, goddess of fire."

The young god of the fire and flames, then, Chung muses to himself. Interesting guest to show up before him. A young god, one of the youngest right next to him, born around the same time if he remembers correctly. He wonders what business Elesis must have with him to send her brother over. Wasn't he someone she wouldn't dare risk losing?

Chung gives a wave without looking toward some mermaids, eyes focused and lips etched into a line. He feels a muddled presence above as he enters the main hall, noting the aura of warmth that faintly lingers above the sea. Hm. Feels accurate. He wonders what Father would do. He remembers oftentimes as he grew up how the masked man would grab his cannon and swim up above to greet all sorts of people, making sure Chung stayed behind. Even though he did secretly follow anyway to see who visited... good, home-like memories, nonetheless. But that's the past. This is the present.

"Thanks. Good work, Daisy," Chung acknowledges her with a stiff nod before turning forward and reaching for the main gates, "I'll see what he has to say myself."

She bows in a manner just as static as his notion and walks off. Chung swings open the gates and steps out of the palace, walking the unmarked sands to get close to the shore. The presence, though weak and hard to detect with the density of the waters, grows stronger with every step, feeling more and more like home even though he had just left it and flickering, murky warmth blocked by the deep blue sea. Seaweed and fish seem to greet him where he walks, and he kicks off the sand to swim forward, nimbly weaving through and giving his greetings to those who wave him hello. The nearby coral reef remains the same light color he protected it as. A school of fish makes an immediate halt at the god passing through, and Chung takes this time to examine the area around him as he moves towards the shore.

Eventually, Chung pauses in a spot he feels is solid. Gently landing back on the sand, he peers around to make sure there were not many people around and that the presence was strong in this place. This should suffice— not too far from the shore but not too close where he wouldn't be able to call up a good amount of water should this turn out to be an assault. He feels for the twin weapons hiding underneath his cloak, nods to himself, then wills the water to push him up above the water, breathing onto the surface.

He sees a red glow.

Sprinkles of drops fan out as he bursts out of the sea on a wave. The ocean tide underneath him bubbles like it is curious, spreading out like magic carpet for his bare feet, gently lapping against his ankles but also hoisting him over its strength. Riding and rising, Chung crosses his arms and looks at the guest before him on a rainy night.

The light comes from his eyes.

"You," Chung calls with a raised voice, the wave carrying him to the glow, "god of fire! Am I correct?"

In the darkness, he sees the glow bob up and down.

Chung narrows his eyes, lets the shimmers of bioluminescence generate the water and reveals himself from the dark, brightly sharp and illuminating cerulean orbs piercing the night, gazing down. The wave brings him closer to the figure. The rain sinks into his hair, but it is refreshing.

"What business do you have here, god of fire, Elsword?"

The wave stops.

The light comes from his eyes, and the hand that reaches out to ignite a radiant flame matches his irises.

Simply put, the boy on the shore is full of the color of fire.

Flaming crimson eyes, flaming crimson hair. He's dressed messily in a tunic so far low-cut he could clearly see the bare chest failing to remain hidden underneath. His hair is just as tousled, and he seems a bit drenched in rain, but it doesn't appear to bother him in the slightest for a god out of his element. However, the fellow god is visibly taken back by Chung's appearance, instead quirking an eyebrow up at his arrival.

"You're the god of water?"

Chung imitates him and raises an eyebrow of his own, not that amused.

"Yes."

Presently, anyways.

The red glow scratches his head, bright red eyes clearly confused. He looks at the fire, already ebbing from the rain, then looks up at Chung with parted lips.

"Uh, wasn't the god of water more, y' know..." He waves flames around like it is nothing when it ignites around his body to form large hunks around his arms, pretending to flex, "...big?"

Chung listens to the sound of rain and breathes the sea-scented air, retains formality as best he can, and commands the water to bring him down closer to eye level with Elsword, "That's my father. Do you need him?"

Wait— shit, why did he say that? That doesn't look good if this person is looking for his father. What was he going to say if he does indeed ask for his father? There would be too much explaining to do and this person could pass the word way too quickly to his sister, to which it would spread like the wildfires just like his sister holds domain over. Chung tries to assess his level of ability in accomplishing tasks meant for people like such an ethereal figure. Should he try to discreetly ask other gods for help?

The flames die down and Elsword looks almost abashed at the cyan glow of water reflecting in his face.

"Well, I was hoping to get permission from him to..." Elsword sighs and scratches his head some more, embarrassment flourishing, then dips his head with crossed arms and a huff, "...to stay in his palace."

Chung frowned. That was doable, but unusual? Very. His father has housed many guests.

"Pardon?" He double checks to make sure. What kind of fire god wants to live in the damn ocean? The ocean was the bane of flame, dousing it mercilessly, practically plugging a stopper into their source of power.

"I'd like to move into his palace," Elsword repeats, but then suddenly his head shoots up to look at Chung with wide eyes and he waves his hands in surrender, "temporarily, of course! Just for a little bit."

Chung mulls over the thought. Well, that was a power he certainly could grant within his abilities, and he technically owned the palace right now anyway, thinking on one end. He didn’t like admitting to that, but if he were to settle this matter, he had to be the one to take responsibility in place of his father. On the other, that meant company. The solitary life Chung had committed the ocean to suddenly housing a fellow god? And even more troubling, this was a god of fire who possibly held abilities equal to or more superior to his own. At a minimum, this person had better control over his powers than Chung did. He listens to the rain like it would give him an answer. All he gets is the pitter patter of raindrops hitting his skin.

"What about Elrianode?" Chung demands, “Is that not where you are supposed to reside?”

Elsword waves his hand, shrugs it off, "Big si— Elesis can handle it."

Was that true? The water god is brought to shore by the wave and feels the familiarity of sand between his toes in seconds, standing in front of Elsword now as the wave disappears back into the current. Elsword smells like campfires.

"Did your sister send you?" Chung presses, eyes narrowed in suspicion while letting an especially high tide loom over them. A shadow or even a vague threat, you could call it.

Elsword didn't budge, but he did warily eye the giant tidal wave behind Chung, "No. I came alone.”

"You're sure it's just you." It practically sounds like an order out of his mouth, and Chung starts to feel a little as if he may be pushing it too much, but he knows as the current god of water he cannot take any hints as nothing. Looking away— that was a sign of lying.

On the contrary, Elsword seems to become really surprised.

"Wha— do you think I’m lying? I was just staring at that giant wave you made!" He explains, flustered and frantic. He looks around even, clearly appalled, before leaning in close and bringing his voice down to a whisper, "And if someone _i_ _s_ here that's kinda a bad thing for me too!”

Chung hardly does as much as blink at him, even as the god of fire, Elsword covers his face and takes some deep breaths. He quietly concedes and decides the god probably is being truthful if another's presence was clearly disadvantageous for him. He doesn’t know why and doesn’t really care enough to press for backstory, but all he needs to know is that this action won’t cause trouble between Chung and the other gods that may be associated with the god of fire.

"This didn't go like I hoped..."

Chung doesn't deny the satisfaction he feels in that. A sort of control or grip he finally has over _something,_ where he had a say in the final call that he hadn’t felt properly in years. His territory, his rules. Enforcing that with this fellow god seemed to be coming along seamlessly, despite his previous slip-up mention of his father. That, and this is the first time Chung has come out on his own proclaiming and waving around what was his father's power.

Maybe he only had control in this situation because he was waving around his father’s power. The thought is kicked away quickly before Chung’s stomach starts churning in the middle of a negotiation.

"Alright, I'll try this again," Elsword looks up nervously with fire-glowing crimson eyes. Chung meets them evenly.

"Please let me stay with you." And he reaches, flame bursting to life in his hand. Chung almost wants to twitch his trigger finger at him for still trying to use fire in the rain _and_ in front of someone who controls the ocean.

But before he moves to send the god of fire on his way with an overload of water, it dies and reveals a scarf. Royal blue, with cyan gradients, but the underside is a deep magenta that nicely compliments both the blue and the flaming colors of the fire god in front of him.

...Oh. There's only one thing that could mean.

Chung looks between the scarf and Elsword. He's not sure what to say about this, actually. This was certainly attractive, one look at the fabric and Chung knew this was an article imbued with power but was he seriously...

"Is this an offering?" He asks in slight disbelief. To him? Not very often do gods bow down and give offerings to other gods. Not even Father got many of those.

"Hear me out." Elsword firmly nods, a plead in his eye.

Their hands brush and Chung realizes how warm Elsword, the god of fire, is; the clear proof that he is a ruler of flame stands out even stronger when he takes the scarf and inspects it. A real fine piece of work too, the fabric silky and feels as if it could just melt against his fingers, filled with warmth yet salt-scented like the sea breeze. The open-hearted attempt to gain his favor bleeds true from the long piece of cloth. Chung feels the velvety texture around it a bit more, making sure it is valid, and his aura and fingertips detect nothing schematic about it. No spring trap to capture him or anything, no hidden mechanisms...

Well, as a god, he _did_ have to accept offerings when they came.

He’ll make do with this for now. "Fine," Chung relented, tossing up the scarf in a bundle and catching it in his hand loosely undone, "for a god to give me an offering and stoop his head low is something I can't overlook."

The lips of the other twitch downwards, but he nods.

"I'll let you stay in the palace," Chung declares, and brings the scarf up for the ocean wave to take away, "but you're leaving as soon as someone needs you."

"They'll need me when they find me in person,” Elsword retorts like what he just said was a personal offense.

Chung gives a scoff in return, abruptly reaching out to press his index and middle fingers against the side of Elsword's neck to draw forth power to breathe in the sea. As his contrasting blue glow emits energy, combats the red of the fire god’s eyes, he lets himself acquiesce to the odd response, "Fine. But as soon as you're inside, you're in _my_ domain. You follow the laws of the sea."

He drops his hand and turns to the ocean, which has summoned up water that kneels before him in a platform up to its crest. Walking up towards it, Chung mounts it as easily as he had called for it to assist him and reaches a hand out to Elsword.

Elsword's fingers brush against his own neck trying to figure out if he felt any different from Chung's powers, but he hesitates, looks behind him, then faces Chung once more with a fire-like determination. A swift, brisk stride has him grabbing Chung's hand and letting himself get hauled up onto the ocean wave, staggering then standing together with clasped hands linking fire and water, rain matting locks of cream and crimson.

Chung gazes at him, gets a real good look at those glowing, warm fire-colored eyes so bright on this rainy day, then drops his hand. Memories of sitting by a fireplace with his father on the shore surface, serene and familial. Innocent smiles and questions, latched onto the powerful arm of his Father drilling a million questions in one. He looks away, forcing those childish thoughts to the dark as he commands the sea to sweep them down under. The route to the palace is rather unorthodox, comprised of following currents while melting down deeper and deeper into the abyss, yet in a position not quite entering the deep seas entirely. Fish and various other marine life feel like blurs, yet he knows one look from them and they would immediately know he has just passed. Even just the slightest _tingle._ His father had always said he radiated an aura similar to him. Concluded that it was due to Chung having direct relations to him.

“Hey, what’s your name, anyway?” The god of fire asks, looking around with hands clasped around his own throat in surprise at the way he is able to easily breathe underwater, “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere, but we haven’t talked before, have we?”

Chung doesn’t bother to spare a glance, focusing on controlling the wave to take them to their destination, remembering each and every twist and turn and purposefully deceiving paths meant to delay intruders from finding the palace. “Chung,” he answers simply, “just Chung.”

“Chung, huh?” Elsword takes on a contemplative look, before pointing at his eyes with wide reds and parted lips, “Oh! Like ‘blue’, right? A human town in the east— it means blue, right?”

Chung doesn’t answer. Blue, like his eyes, like the sea, like the ocean, was right on the nail, but no way in hell was he going to give this random god that wants to stay in the palace even a _centimeter_ of himself. His father had told him something similar when he was born. Warmly, smiling so infectiously, he pointed at their matching-colored eyes, talking about the oh-so-blue of his eyes and the dark spotted pupils of his as they looked at themselves down from a glass mirror shard, comparing their physical traits together. How proud his father was that Chung had emerged from the sea foam with such shining blue eyes.

 _You’re wrong, Father,_ he thinks to himself. His eyes aren’t so dreamy like that— or at least, not anymore. He feels the look Elsword gives him, the energy coming off like a familial pride that was lost some time ago, and immediately decides he doesn’t enjoy such a look being pointed towards him. So he focuses on the sea, the ocean, compelling it to carry the pair, and lets the darkening sea cloud out the burdening light of his thoughts.

Why? Because he didn’t need to think about family right now. And especially not because of a god he has just met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [01] This sources from a rough translation of the grave inscription on the former artwork for Magnolia, a song by M2U and Guriri. If you're familiar with the music game Deemo, some digging around will give you a version of the artwork with the gravestone, but presently that gravestone is no longer there. It is replaced by magnolia flowers now.
> 
> With that footnote aside, let's talk. This is an idea that's been in my head for a while and was intended to be an extensive one-shot, but...
> 
> well. There was too much I wanted to touch upon, and a one-shot format would only feel sloppy and unorganized for it, so I felt I had to expand it into a multi-chaptered fic to really get through everything. It's gonna be a long ride; I'll try to pace myself and will do my best to see this to completion. Maybe it'll become my Elsword magnum opus lol
> 
> In a most ideal situation, with perfect conditions, I'm aiming for monthly updates, but with how life is so forever full of twists, we'll see what happens. Still, hopefully, we'll see each other again next month! Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elsword makes himself known.

A couple of days have passed since the god of fire was allowed entry into the palace. Elsword wasn’t particularly subtle about his presence, but Chung wasn’t cleaning up after him everywhere either, so really, it could have been worse.

On the other hand, it could have been better, too, because it was a little odd having Elsword brighten up and wave at him every time they held eye contact with each other.

It wasn’t like Chung could ignore it, either. He was a host; this was his first time being a host without his father by his side, so he tried to be as cordial as possible. Which meant waving back every damn time the god of fire waved. Which was every damn time they were within each other’s _vicinity._ More annoyingly enough, these interactions would attract a lot of attention from the sea residents in his castle, Laguz and merpeople alike. He could hear whispers, questions, rumors, and theories asking about what the god of fire was doing so close to their lord. Chung personally didn’t care. He was busy fumbling through all of the maintenance for the sea in a reasonable manner, too much to learn about and mull over, but what of the fire god? If the talking bothered him, surely it was Chung’s job to rectify this and calm his people over the arrangement, right? Then again, as far as he could recall, when was the last time a god had stayed this long? Had they ever recorded a precedent example of this?

Chung rubs his head against his temple as he thumbs through reports. Forget it. He’d look in the library’s record books later. It was still summertime right now, which seemed to be a popular time for humans to visit beaches and hope for good tidal waves. He tries to adjust his control over the water, thinking on what he could improve on from the previous years. The first year he had let the water go a little too rampantly, and then last year trading ships had problems with the currents not cooperating. It’s almost frustrating, his fingers press into his skin further and further, and—

“Sir, the fire god requests an audience.”

He looks up. Not having noticed the massive, gold-encrusted double doors swing open just a peek, his father’s assistant, Daisy arrives with her head bowed. He crosses one leg over the other, uncomfortably tucks his cloak farther around himself. This kind of sight where he stood atop a throne too large for him, with subjects bending to their knees before his presence, heads turned down in reverence, sent his gut shifting uncomfortably in a matter of seconds.

As rulers should, Chung swallows it down and nods.

“Send him in.”

She stands up, but her head is still bowed. Her eyes never so much as even drift up to meet his gaze. With a turn of a heel, a soft, “Very well,” parts from her lips and the clack of her heels resonate in the throne room as she exits it as quickly as she had entered.

Hardly a beat of a moment is missed before the door swings open again, much more brazenly this time, and in the room walks the god of fire, smiling, waving, and when Chung cocks a single eyebrow up at his manners he makes a small gasp. Only then does he react similarly to Daisy, dropping onto one knee with head bowed. Chung still catches his smile, ever-existing. It reminds Chung of the first time he was learning of mannerisms around gods, the first time he saw an entire audience of people bow before his father, and, thinking it was cool, he did the same with a giddy smile.

(His father laughed and played along, told him to rise along with the rest, and he did so a bit too quickly, a bit too energetically, but had hardly received commentary on it until after the meeting adjourned.)

“Hey, Chung,” the fire god speaks blithely, bubbles emerging from his lips that pop gently within the water, dissolving like sea foam, dispersing, “how are you?”

A basic question that doesn’t seem to get to business quickly enough. Chung frowns, his lips twitching downwards just a fraction. Perhaps these were mannerisms the fire god was taught on his end? Either way, the question did no harm, so he decides to entertain the guy.

“I’m doing fine,” with controlled neutrality in his tone, not too implicative of whether his day was up or down, Chung places his hands on the throne’s armrests and lets his head fall back against the marbled backrest, “you can rise. Why are you here?”

Elsword practically shoots up again, energetic in every single move he makes. Seems to be a consistent trait with him. “I just wanted to know if I could hang around here with you is all, maybe chat a little?”

His smile feels like it’ll burn Chung’s eyes off if he stared too long. It’s so damn wide, full of promise and potential, warm, reflects the big grin his father had on his face as soon as everyone left the throne room that far, long-ago day. Huffing through his nose, Chung’s hand comes up to cover his mouth to consider the idea. Quickly, he runs over his schedule in his head. Not like he had much of one, though he preferred to keep his time slots as appropriate for his people as possible and not make sudden cancellations.

If he were that booked, anyway. Which he was not.

“Fine,” Chung waves his hand and tries not to roll his eyes. He’ll play his game. Elsword grins wider and ascends the staircase leading to the throne with fairy light steps, settling for positioning himself next to the throne and perched on that final staircase step in front of him.

_He’s like a pet dog,_ Chung thinks to himself belatedly, giving him a single glance that is mirrored.

Red eyes gaze into his opposing cerulean ones curiously, inquisitive with a shine that reflects the faint spell of light drifting from above the surface. A conspicuous contrast between Daisy, who has been at his father’s side longer than his years of existence, keeps her head bowed and never steps out of line, and Elsword, the god of fire, who looks upon him without a shred of hesitation, no consideration of his position, yet indiscriminately bright.

Chung’s answer leaves hardly any room for conversation, hoping to keep chatter to a minimum as his eyes drift back to the pages before him. Still, Elsword presses on.

“Your palace is really cool, by the way!”

“My father built it.”

Elsword makes this noise of awe; a dragged out “ooh…" spilling from his lips in astonishment. Chung really wants to know what the hell is so surprising or admirable about that, but doesn’t bother asking.

“Your father must be really cool too, then, huh?” Elsword says, smiling once again and swinging his legs to and fro, hands propping himself up, “I mean, I don’t even know who made where I was created. Just some ancient gods making a pet rock and breaking it, probably?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was born from the ocean,” Chung responds absentmindedly. He wonders how the wind god would react if he adjusted his tides for safe trading travels. His father had always favored the ports because of how close they were to the ocean. It felt more intimate to him. 

A brush of red hair grazes his cheek. Chung blinks and shifts his eyes, seeing Elsword peer over the papers. Not quite touching anywhere near the throne, yet close enough where he can find the details of the dip of his bare collarbone, the coarse lines of his upper body and the inevitably lining trail from his chest to the stomach to shit that he doesn’t want to visualize in his head.

He puts his attention somewhere else. A random corner in the room, sure. Still, why does the god of fire dress like that? It’s so… _out there._ Nothing like how other gods dress; at least, in his memory of them. He hasn’t seen any god in awhile, and Elsword was the first in multiple counting years.

“You know,” Elsword says, completely ignorant of Chung’s observations, “the people here really like you. I can tell you’ve grown up here.”

Chung purses his lips and feels irritation in his brow. He tries to concentrate on reading the paper, how it charts out the high and low tides of every single day for the past six months and the patterns he must follow, but all he sees is that flash of dangling red hair over and over and over again.

“You’re distracting me,” he immediately says, firmly shutting his eyes with a sigh and lets his head rest on his palm. Truly, how can he focus when there’s someone staring over his shoulder at his work? Hanging out was allowed, but distractions certainly were not! And Chung was perfectly capable of doing both; or at least, he had to pick up on his skills for it.

“I was just curious,” Elsword laughs, carefree and unbothered, scratching the back of his head and he moves away obediently, “sorry! I just thought it all made sense, seeing you like that.”

“What makes sense?” Fuck it. He can’t focus at this point, being too far gone with Elsword's chatter. Not with a vague answer like that. Conclusively, there was no choice but to indulge Elsword until he went away, and so he brings his eyes away from the paper, fingers letting it go as it floats casually in the water.

Elsword gestures his head towards the grand doors of the throne room, cheekily grinning with bright, enthusiastic crimson eyes, “Why your people like you! I drop in with some of them when I hear them talk about me.”

That couldn't be. Chung’s eyes widen for multiple reasons. Primary reason being that that word has been spreading about Elsword, and yet he’s the one that brings it up of all people. But more than that, he can’t deny his slight surprise at being described as… _likable._ He was just a substitute until Father came back, wasn’t he? Temporary, just like Elsword’s stay here.

Elsword reads his expression easily, his smile dropping and his face molding itself to one that matched Chung’s in a matter of seconds. “What— you don’t know? Do you not talk to them much?”

The only thing Chung can answer with is honesty. “Well, no…” he mutters, his eyes shifting towards his lap where he rested one of his hands, the other scratching his cheek. Now that he thinks on it, in the years he’s been ruling the sea, he’s really only talked for ruling-related matters, or had Daisy relay it for him (because he really couldn’t think of anything else to make her do, and she was rather insistent on serving whoever was controlling the seas.)

There it is. The smile again. Chung thinks this is a guy that is probably never going to get tired of smiling. Elsword grabs his hand, clasps it tightly with solid warmth that floods his entire body.

It reminds him of the first time he had attempted interacting with the water. He had been thoroughly blindsided, knocked down onto his rear with wide, teary eyes, and his father had taken his hand and told him that he just had to keep trying and getting used to it. Like learning how to walk for the first time all over again.

“Well, then you should know that you’re a good person, Chung!” Elsword declares immediately, like just two conversations between them was enough to come to such a hasty conclusion. Chung looks at him with a twitching eye. Was this mockery? Some kind of debauchery on Elsword’s end? Did he forget just _who_ was hosting him here? Chung ought to kick him right out of the palace, but Elsword keeps going.  
“I mean it, really! Don’t make that face, don’t make that face… it’s scary…” Elsword’s laughs, weaker than before, eyebrows scrunched upwards as he shakes Chung’s wrist a couple of times, “it’s making me super nervous. I mean, they really do appreciate and like you!”

That couldn’t be. Impossible. He’s only ruled for a fraction of the time his father has. “Is this a setup to win my favor?”

“Huh?” Elsword blinks at him, still smiling, but he clearly has confusion in his eyes and no damn idea what Chung was going on about. He takes it as Elsword possibly not having enough brain cells to plot that far.

“Nevermind,” Chung brushes it aside, quickly thinking up of something to move Elsword away from prying about suspicions, “you said they talked about you?”

Elsword still hasn’t let go of his hand, staring at him like he was surprised he was even paying attention, before smiling again, “Oh, yeah! Don’t worry, they’re really nice! They keep coming up to me and asking about me, but,” The fire god moves his hands away, stands on the heels of his feet, placing his hands behind his back and crouching down to level his gaze with Chung, “they also ask about you, y’ know? I can’t really answer ‘cause I can only tell them you were crazy nice enough to house me.”

Crazy nice. Chung blanches at the fire god's words like sour cream. Him? Nice? How in the oceans was he nice? He’s barely done much aside from making sure the seas were stabilized, and that was just going to be enough to warrant him a ‘nice’ person? He wants to scoff but holds himself back in favor of not offending the fire god next to him. Instead, he asks, “They’re not bothering you too much? If you are being pestered too often, I can request them to leave you be.”

“Never! I love talking to people,” Two thumbs up shoved in front of his face, an equally positive grin occupying the space in-between, “a couple of people have even told me I make their days brighter! Pretty funny ‘cause I’m a fire god.”

Interesting. “Is that so? Thank you for helping them have a better day,” Chung nods, wonders if he should go back to working on arranging the next tides.

“It’s the least I can do in exchange,” Elsword responds back, chin hovering centimeters from the armrest Chung rests his hand on. He continues to be ever so bright and beaming despite his submergence in the sea as he chuckles, full of mirth and ocean bubbles.

The sight reminds Chung of when he was barely tall enough to reach over his father’s throne. He looks away and goes back to his reports.

* * *

Chung decides to spend some time observing the sea dwellers the next day.

He ventures out of his personal chambers, fully dressed in his cloak and silver crown and decides to detour from the throne room towards the hallways and main areas. Marble stone greets him from every direction, serving dutifully as the very basis of the structure he lived in as he counts the number of pillars he passes absentmindedly. Relics of sunken ships that had stolen wares from the sea decorate the palace here and there; a beaded gold necklace drapes itself around one pillar, an antique vase randomly drifts past him before it is tugged back into place by the set of seaweed it has caught itself in. A Laguz and Iz duo wave to him as he makes his way, him waving back as politely as he could as he walked.

Then he stops. Chung remembers Elsword’s words.

_“—A couple have even told me I make their days brighter! Pretty funny ‘cause I’m a fire god.”_

He purses his lips together, turns around to face the Laguz and Iz pair. They perk up as soon as he lays eyes on them, one turning away while covering her face. The other immediately bows splendidly before him, averting her eyes away from him.

“…Excuse me,” he starts and makes the first move by approaching them, keeping his hands hidden within his cloak. The Laguz, with her head still bowed, quickly tugs on her friend, causing the Iz to turn back and bow even lower than the former to Chung’s presence.

_Yes, Lord Chung!_ Both the Laguz and Iz cry out in his mind.

Chung doesn’t know when he’ll ever get used to this whole bowing before him schtick. Even years on the throne never completely warmed him up to the idea, but apparently, Elsword, the god of fire, claims it to be otherwise.

“I’d like to ask a few questions about the god of fire, Elsword,” is all that gets out of his mouth before an eruption of giggles flood his head from both water spirits. The one that had bowed to him first is now the one flushing a furious red, her friend patting her back trying to stifle her giggles.

_Y-Yes?!_ Her voice goes up an entire octave. She plays with her fingers, her fins and gills flushed pink. Her fanned ears twitch back and forth.

Chung gives a mild look of curiosity at them. He thinks he knows how to start off his questioning with a reaction like that, considering he didn’t conjure a list of questions to use in his head and simply just went for it. “Did he do anything to harm you?”

The Iz shakes her head, shaking her Laguz friend a couple of times over the shoulders. _Y-You’ve made a very kind friend, Lord Chung, sir!_ Her voice bubbles in his head, her eyes crinkling with a fondness. The curve of her lips shapes themselves upwards kindly, though the bottom trembles.

What. “Friend?” Chung echoes back. They thought he and the god of fire were _friends?_ The shock, the gall behind such a bold statement makes the mask slip off his face, his genuine surprise appearing out in the clear blue sea for a moment before he shakes it off and molds himself into ethereality, neutrality, as he should be. He opts for digging into her logic, “Why do you think me and the god of fire are friends, if I may ask?”

The Laguz seems to have recovered enough to answer in place of her shyer friend, squaring her shoulders and clasping her hands firmly together, _Milord, is it not a gesture of friendship to allow another god into the palace? Lord Elsword is the god of fire. His powers are surely meaningless in here, yet still, he willingly enters. Is that not a form of camaraderie, somehow?_

He thinks on it. That was true. Not many gods stay for longer than a day in another god’s domain, especially if they were at a disadvantage. But he was only offering a temporary residence here for… whatever reason the god of fire needed to stay here, and considering said god hasn’t done much besides talking to his people and make them happy, Chung finds little to complain about. But they definitely weren’t friends. Whoever was spreading that around needed salt water doused out of their ears.

“We’re _acquaintances_ ,” Chung clarifies, voice strong and arms crossed, “not friends.”

The Laguz and Iz both gasp at the same time as if this were wave-breaking level news. Their hands fly over their mouths in perfect synchronization, bowing so deeply their heads might’ve come close to brushing against the floor should they go any lower.

_M-My apologies for jumping to conclusions, Lord Chung!_

  
_We apologize for our rash behavior!_

Sighing, he shakes his head. Well… whatever. He shouldn’t care what his people thought of the fire god's relations to him unless it was dangerous to his image. “You can rise,” Chung says, vaguely waving his hand in a gesture for them to disregard him. They bring their heads up, but he sees the slightest bit of fear flash in their eyes, “I should be the one to apologize for not clarifying when we arrived.”

They shake their heads rapidly.

_No, of course not!_

He firmly believes himself to be correct, though. Even if it was in the deep night, there was still a fair amount of sea dwellers awake by the time he had arrived and pushed open the palace gates with Elsword in tow, drawing stares from all around as Chung gave a rapid rundown of the palace.

_"This is the main hall. Talk to Daisy, my helper, for a map of the palace. I have work to get back to. Keep going straight, and you’ll find doors about as large as the main gate. That’s the throne room if you need me,”_ he had said quickly.

Elsword, the god of fire, nodded and thanked him with the same smile all around, asking for Daisy’s appearance and location to leave Chung to it immediately.

Then they didn’t talk until… yesterday. When the god of fire himself requested an audience just to chat. Huh. Was Chung too rude that day?

“Has the god of fire done anything to insult you?” he tries to speak more lightly, gentler, thumbs closed in on his arms.

The Iz looks at the Laguz by her side, then back towards their lord and shakes her head with shy, downcast eyes, _T-The opposite, sir. He’s been nothing but pleasant._

Pink is the color of the Laguz’s finned ears again. Chung stares at her, waiting, thinking. It seems Elsword wasn't entirely faking anything so far.

_I was trying to talk to Rod Ross the other day,_ she starts.

Chung’s first instinct is to pour every inch of his power into not asking why _Rod Ross_ of all people. Damn annoying skirt-chaser. But Rod Ross, with his flaxen gold wavy hair and sparkling blue princely eyes, was a ladies man and a well-known charmer for a reason, so whatever. Whatever. He just didn’t understand was all.

_But I didn’t know how to approach him, and I was talking to myself and Lord Elsword overheard,_ she explains, then giggles in the form of a wave of bubbles slipping from her lips, _so he went over to Rod Ross with no hesitation and brought him to me! Isn’t that brave?_

Her water spirit friend nods enthusiastically in agreement. Chung is inclined to agree with her solely because of the sheer difficulty it takes to talk with someone like Rod Ross.

_I tried to thank him later,_ the Laguz spreads her arms out in front of her, brows furrowed and lips quirking down for a moment, _but he said not to worry and left afterward._

Chung tilts his head just a fraction, “Alright,” he concedes, nodding his head and uncrossing his arms. He feels for his guns by his side, hidden underneath, in reassurance, “one more question and I’ll leave you two alone.”

They nod their heads again, in time with each other.

“Is there anyone you know that’s talked with him too?”

Silence. He hears nothing in his head for a couple of moments before timidly, the Iz answers.

_Rod Ross?_

Ugh. The willpower required not to visibly blanch at the idea is large. Nothing more needs to be said there; he knows Rod Ross and knows where to go because Rod Ross only ever hangs in the same bloody places. Thanking them with a dip of his head and a faint, forced smile, he turns and they go their separate ways, well aware of how the two water spirits huddle together in whispers and wide eyes as soon as his back is turned.

It really isn’t that hard to find Rod Ross. Where the hyacinths linger, the kelp, the floating hearts, and water lilies, where he’ll be searching for the finest of them all with a mirror tucked under his arm all while preening himself. Whenever Daisy wasn’t by his side, following his issued orders, she would be right next to Rod Ross, gushing over him like many other sea dwellers. In contrast, he wonders, mundanely, if Elsword had seen the sea garden yet. Maybe he’d like it. Should he take him there sometime? But the guy looks like the type to explore on his own and if he had been able to find Chung yesterday, he surely at least knows how to get back to the main hall, and if he knew how to do that he could have run into the sea garden by now.

Hoisting himself up on the railing between the columns of the castle, with efficiency and practiced ease he pushes himself off, diving downwards towards the floor below him. His hands reach out, fingers outstretched as he swims down one, two floors before latching onto the top of the next floor structure’s marble base. Using it to halt him, he swings around it, pulling himself from outside the castle’s form and back inside. His bare feet gently touch the stone again without so much as a sound. Looking out and over, the waving greens not too far ahead are too familiar with the flash of gold that Chung is already walking over, letting out his sighs before he gets there with a glare at the garden’s mess of green and blue colors.

He passes through an elegantly crafted arch made of curls and spirals, granting him entrance into the ocean’s garden. The flowers weave amongst themselves within the tall, tall, tall blades of kelp that went beyond Chung’s own height, breaking the surface’s filtered sunlight into scattering freckled rays that tint the ocean in a fading sea-green.

And right in front of it all was the familiar golden blonde he was too acquainted with for his liking, by his side the familiar silver hair that could only belong to Daisy, both surrounded by merpeople and water spirits alike. They all seem to be looking upward.

Chung follows their eyes.

He stares.

Crimson hair, entangled within the seaweeds and vine and flowers tickling his hair, dance as lush greens curl up against tanned skin of crossed legs. Seated, floating in the ocean, large stalks of seaweed weave immaculately with the long ponytail of red hair that shifts with each movement, the person in question bringing fingers up against a blossoming pure white lily flower petal. The sunlight from above seems to cast itself directly over his features, revealing focused, warm eyes fixated towards dislodging the flower, gripping a stalk of kelp behind him to lock himself in place.

Gently, Elsword tugs the lily once, and it finally dislodges itself from a verdant-colored cage, a smile sprouting on his face as soon as he does so and he looks down, showing it off to the crowd below.

A cheer goes up from Rod Ross and Daisy, while the water spirits clap and wave frantically in gestures for the man to scale back down. Nodding to them, Elsword does so carefully, slowly letting go of the kelp to angle himself in a position to swim downward.

Something tugs at his leg.

He turns around, but there’s a similar tug on the back of his neck. Frowning, the fire god looks around. Green stalks, wrapped around his ankle, practically clinging onto his legs and his hair, do little to let him go. He looks back down with wide eyes.

“Lord Elsword, don’t worry! This is not the first time this has happened. Just twist your body like so…~” Rod Ross twists his body in such an absurd manner one would think he didn’t have a spine. He flashes a wink towards the water spirits as he does so.

Elsword tries it, a bad replicant of Rod Ross’s form, and if anything only seems to make it worse. The kelp he had latched onto ends up wrapped around his wrist in the middle of his maneuver, practically trapping him in. He tries to think of how to get out without harming the flower in his other hand. Pressing his lips together, he pauses, then takes a breath.

“Stay still.”

Pale fingers, long and slender fit for a dancer, unwrap the kelp stuck on his wrist, his ponytail as well.

Elsword turns around to see cerulean eyes pointedly looking away, a soft exhale not heard but seen through bubbles.

Chung thinks this guy is ridiculous. Sure, the sight was… admittedly breathtaking to behold, but did he really think messing around in the sea garden was of little consequence? Those who walk land should know better.

“Don’t listen to Rod Ross, bullshit spills out of his mouth over half the time,” Chung murmurs quietly, just low enough for Elsword to catch it. If Rod Ross heard that, well, oceans forbid Chung may as well just fucking retire for the entire day from the tantrum he’ll throw, “I’ve also gotten stuck here before. My father had to help me get out every time until I could get out by myself.”

Elsword is quiet, but he goes statue-stiff. Chung finishes loosening the kelp and lets Elsword slip his wrist out free from its clutches, taking one look at the fire god just to be sure. Instead, he sees wide, red eyes with high-raised brows, lips parted and bated breath that is set free.

Admiration. He sees the admiration in that look, complete and true and hardly concealed in the slightest.

_Chung, be still. Don’t listen to Rod Ross. He’ll get you stuck here even worse than you are right now._ Large hands working on the greens clinging all over his arms and legs, warm sea eyes, a hearty laugh.

_Don’t tell him I said that. He’ll get mad, okay?_

That time, when he looked at his father…

(It was admiration.)

He shakes his head, gently pushes himself down to level his gaze with the kelp wrapped around the fire god’s legs and works through the steps mechanically. What was he saying? No, what was he thinking? He was remembering the motions his father went through each and every time Chung himself had gotten stuck, but his tongue came and went before his mind even focused properly. The first time he remembers getting stuck, he had been reduced to tears and guilt, thinking the sea garden was the best place to hide in a game of hide-and-seek, believing if he went up high enough his father surely wouldn’t see him, only to get entangled in all of the foliage…

“Really? Did your father teach you how to get out?” Elsword slips his left leg out of the tangles as he asks. Chung swims to the other side with a mere kick of his legs, works on the other one, and nods. He wishes he could bite his own tongue off right about now.

Their skin contrasts so differently, even underwater, Chung thinks to himself. Elsword was more tanned than he, a sea dweller who bore a pale complexion as proof of hardly being out on the surface. His father was also more tanned than him, but not quite the same as Elsword was.

He should shut up. But something in him stirs, is tugged forth by the warmth this god radiates, and he speaks before thinking for the second time. “He did,” absentmindedly, he speaks at the same time that he remembers, “it happened so many times I memorized the hand movements he made with each type of knot.”

Oh, how far long those times were now. Though, in truth, he learned what to do because he purposely got himself stuck between the kelp trying to learn how to do it. He had never told his father that; he never asked his father to teach him, just went and kept getting himself stuck and trying to replicate how his father did it. Perhaps Chung should have told him that…

Elsword slips his other leg free of the kelp, eyes still on Chung, flower delicately cradled between both hands.

“That must’ve sucked,” the fire god comments easily, bringing himself down to meet him at eye level, “but I get that. You’re even super freaking good at it now! Your fingers moved so quickly!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Chung replies, before firmly grasping multiple stalks of kelp with both hands. He pushes them apart, creating an entryway back into the open sea. A simple gesture of the head from him has his opposite swimming out of the sea garden’s greenery and towards the group waiting below.

The applause that comes after is louder than the first time, throwing Chung off guard as he follows behind Elsword and lands by his side. It feels like they just finished performing some kind of show, yet he knows at least half the sea dwellers gathered here most definitely have seen his smaller self get stuck here at least once or twice. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Chung used to get stuck in these a lot.

“Don’t apologize about it!” Elsword laughs when a Laguz walks up to him and bows in apology, “But I got the flower for you, so isn’t that what matters?”

The water lily he was trying to grab, Chung reckons with a quick look, as it passes on from the fire god’s hands into the water spirit’s finned ones. She rushes forward, wrapping her arms around his abdomen and pressing her face in his chest in an embrace, flower gripped firmly but carefully between her fingers. Easily, he returns the hug, smiling and laughing as his expression mirrors the ones around him.

“But I guess I’m also lucky Chung got here when he did, huh?”

All eyes on their ruler.

Chung carefully schools his face into blankness, tries not to let the faintest rush of embarrassment show on his visage. He wouldn’t break here. He wouldn’t make a fool of himself here. He looks at Elsword, looks at the equally positive expressions on everyone’s faces and even Rod Ross isn’t a pain to look at for once with such a look, and shrugs awkwardly, still slightly abashed at the attention.

“Just be careful next time.”

Laughter. He doesn’t know why it’s funny, but he hears the laughs and chirps of the water spirits giggling echo in his head, he catches the way Daisy brings her hand up to her mouth in a close-lipped chortle, Rod Ross boisterous compared to her. Elsword blends in easily, his voice chiming in like the rest, all while scratching the back of his head with that same look as before towards Chung.

Chung curls in on himself slightly at the look. The way Elsword looked at him— it was unusual. Unusual in a way that felt as if Chung was some sort of figure that had _something_ of worth to the fire god; like he was someone that was nice.

It was unsettling, to put it kindly. He didn’t like it; that kind of gaze was just _waiting_ to pry his soul out of his body and leave him exposed and vulnerable, readable to the searching eye, but he swallows it down. At least he can conclude Elsword’s presence seemed to make his subjects happy. And if it made his subjects happy, then Chung certainly wasn’t in any position to make any complaints. He didn’t have the slightest damn idea how Elsword did whatever he does, yet it seems to be leaving a bright, shining effect on those who talk to him.

Chung isn’t sure if he's also included in that, as well. He's not sure if he wants to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said monthly, but hear me out, lol. 
> 
> I wasn't expecting this kind of return so I was kind of doing this for the sake of... doing it. And I still am, mind you, but I'll be honest and say I no longer have any idea what my update schedule will be anymore, besides that I'll make sure it's on a Wednesday and it's definitely not going to extend beyond monthly updates. We'll see what happens, but thanks for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The period where Chung starts to get annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry guild wars was up in gbf so i slacked off  
> b tier was horrible btw

“Can I spar against you?”

The rapid cracking of bullets ceases in a large, spacious circular room of pale beige and cool grey. Engravings of wyvern-like dragons embed themselves into the walls, decorated by racks of various wooden weapons and stools aligned against the walls in a perfect arc. Slightly out of breath, Chung turns around, poised to strike and quickly turning his guns over towards the sound of the voice.

Elsword waves. Looks at the various fish-shaped basalt dummies in bits and pieces in the wide, enclosed room. Then strides over to Chung without much doubt or concern in his mind.

“How’d you find this place?” Chung asks instead, relaxing as he let his shoulders droop and his guns hooked back by his sides. It’s been an uneventful day so far, with little conflict or matters to settle on such a rainy day. The pitter-patter of the raindrops tingle faintly in the back of his mind, where he is loosely connected to the sea as it hungrily laps up those droplets, their infinite appetite showing itself.

“Oh. Daisy told me,” the fire god looks around, turning a full circle in astonishment with his fingers pressed against the base of his throat, “said you'd be here or the library. Already checked the library—really cool by the way— but hey, this place’s incredible! How do you keep water from getting in here?”

Chung decides to ignore the fact that Daisy apparently deemed Elsword trustworthy enough to pass Chung’s location without a second thought. “The same way you’re able to breathe underwater.”

“Ooh,” Elsword makes that same amazed noise again, “I mean, I’d be useless underwater, but in these kinds of areas,” he flashes a smirk at Chung, “You look like you’ve been fighting nothing but dummies for awhile. Why not switch it up? I think I can be a pretty good sparring partner compared to a bunch of rock dummies.”

“I take it you’re challenging me?” Chung is already stretching out his fingers and heading towards one end of the room as he talks, watching the way Elsword’s body shifts, the way his weight shifts from one foot to the other, before finally seeing a fire light up in what was already fire red eyes.

“How about it, Chung? I have to stay in shape too. I like fighting to test out people’s strengths, anyway. There’s this saying, you know? That the way someone fights can tell you about someone. Like a non-verbal icebreaker.” Elsword seems to be glowingly positive from this. Chung doesn’t dwell on it, but what he _does_ definitely dwell on is the way the fire god approaches the rack of wooden weapons, pulling out various-sized swords and swinging it a few times before putting it back. This cycle seemed to continue until Elsword finally gave an extra few swings to a medium-sized broadsword, akin to a gladiator’s blade, before taking it with him.

“Hm,” Chung makes a faint noise of interest, but the vastness and silence of the area make rebounds around the walls, echoing back to the fire god. He spreads his feet apart, one foot in front of the other, and slips his guns back into his hands with mechanical, automatic practice. The dummies' rubble creates a wide circle of debris around them, eyes observing the other without so much as blinking, “They also say not to bring a knife to a gunfight.”

“I’ve dealt with these situations before,” Elsword answers easily, his form dropping low with the blade’s tip just barely brushing the cement, “don’t worry about me. Si— someone once said you’ll lose it if you get too distracted. I’ll limit my magic powers. Don’t want to obliterate anything here.”

He’s wielding that sword with one hand. A two-handed great-sword. With one hand. Chung finds his thoughts lingering to the kind of training regimen Elsword must have done to wield something so heavy so effortlessly. Should he ask? No, he’d be stepping out of line. It would be unprofessional. “That would be wise,” he says instead, and it _is_ quite wise. Two gods fighting in a room was a recipe to create collateral damages that Chung was confident he would have no idea how to handle, “I’ll refrain from drowning you.” He adjusts the energy in his fingers that fuel the guns in his hands; it wouldn’t do to injure his own guest too much, even if gods didn’t necessarily die.

Elsword pauses. Lips partly agape and all that. Then, whatever brain cells he had in his head all collectively comes together just to simply say,

“That was cute.”

And Chung doesn’t buy it for a second. Rather, he decides to take that as the starting cue and fires a bullet. Elsword yelps, sidestepping out of the way in the nick of time, but his eyes lock onto Chung with that stupid-eyed look completely gone and _wow, he’s fast—_

Ducking under a sword swing and rolling out of a downwards strike’s range, Chung fires a couple more shots towards the fire god’s arms and legs while making a rapid backpedal away from him. Elsword deflects it with some kind of odd seal, a whole bunch of circles with a three in the center with inscribed words all around. Chung, finding himself trying to make sense of it a little too long, has to veer his head to the side to prevent getting hit by one of his own bullets. A literal reflective seal of some kind, then? There were many possibilities but it seemed Elsword thought these were okay to use compared to fire.

It must be utility-based in that case. Keeping his distance had always been in his best interest, both on the battlefield and in other settings. But Elsword— experience comes in every step, with the light-footed approach he makes and the hardened eyes with twitching fingers at every move Chung makes. He’s even smiling.

Battles have only ever stressed Chung out, so his lips remain a flat line and he tries to find a break in Elsword’s defenses all while trying to keep a distance away. Elsword’s brow is furrowed at him. With another seal placed left, right, forward, back, a loose, incorrigible shape narrows the space around them. Chung himself doesn’t notice until he backs into one, hissing at the slight flaring burn on his elbow, and realizes Elsword actually uses more than one brain cell.

He still hasn’t got a clean shot in yet. The closest he’s gotten is the nick on the god of fire’s shoulder, just barely brushing against tanned skin.

Regardless, a moment thinking is a moment too long, and as Chung fires a bullet round his first genuine hit is on the leg. It doesn’t do much, just so you know. In fact, Chung should’ve figured but the next thing he knows, the blade’s flat side knocks against his wrist and one gun falls out of his hands. Swift positioning of his arm over the blade, Chung pulls the trigger two, three times and another just grazes the cheek.

Way too close. He was getting too close to him where he was no longer safe from getting hit, but he glances back and _damn it_ there’s another stupid set of runes forming a fence there too.

It happens so fast Chung’s thoughts lag behind.

He prepares another shot. Elsword... grabs the gun. He yanks it out with his sword hand, both weapons going skittering to the side. Chung brings up his fist. Swings, misses, Elsword closes in on the opportunity and—

Ah. There’s the ceiling.

Elsword exhales, a sweat or two rolling down his skin and trailing into the crevasses of his tunic before kneeling to offer a hand. Chung pushes his hand away and lifts himself upright.

The fire god gives a tentative look, saying little, but his face says otherwise, hair draped over one eye. Nervous gaze, fingers drumming his cheek, a sense of fidgeting.

“If you have something to say, say it.”

Elsword straightens up and nods. “I was just thinking your close combat skills kinda sucked.”

Chung looks at his hands. Two that don’t belong to him curl their fingers around his closed fist.

“Your footing was off, and you didn’t punch properly.”

He feels his cheeks burn in embarrassment. It was a reckless, futile attempt; one could even have called the match over as soon as Elsword managed to close the gap between them. Hell, the last time he’d performed close quarter combat was when his father was still around, during the calm tidal season where everything was nice and happy. “I haven’t... practiced close combat. I don’t have anyone to practice with.”

“You’ve got guards who probably know how to,” a hand places itself on top of Chung’s head, messing his hair up.

_Don’t worry about falling behind, Chung. We’ve got all the time in the world. Let’s try it again._

“I don’t like bothering them from their work.”

Ducking his head down lower, he finds his own hand slowly making its way up to meet the one on his head. There was something alluring, homely about it, the reassurance in his touch compelling without trying. An eye of the storm, even, finding its way here in the sea but as soon as their fingers brush, Chung recoils and moves to push Elsword’s hand off of his head.

Elsword, instead, drops to his knees to meet eye level with Chung, crouching low and angling his head to come into view. “Any fellow god friends or something?”

“No.”

“I’m here, then.”

Chung’s head snaps towards the crimson-haired deity. Only his father had ever taught him. Otherwise, he found himself teaching himself alone, absorbed in idealizations of surpassing greatness. Elsword adjusts himself to sit in front of Chung rather than crouch, bringing both his fists up by his sides with a cheeky smile, “I can teach you. I’ve got a friend named Laby. Really good at brawling, she taught me some useful stuff when I was visiting the Black Forest.”

He recalls Laby as the goddess of war. Odd for someone who looked so small to be a war goddess, but he supposed the nickname of Eternity Winner wasn’t for show. He remembers her challenging his father once. His father had denied, saying he would be overwhelmed without his cannon to support him. Chung had thought to himself that the possibility of his father losing to _anyone_ was little to none, yet now…

Foolish.

“Come on. We can start now,” Elsword brushes non-existent dust off his legs and gets back up, “Practice, friends, I can do both. I’d prefer to do both, actually. You win both ways, right? Friends are important. They make you stronger. And I think I want to be friends with you.”

Chung only moves to join for practice. He does actually, in fact, need to practice his close-quarter combat expertise. He’ll admit that much, but _friends?_ He doesn’t think he’s ever had a friend, only acquaintances. He’s not sure if he desires one, either.

“You shouldn’t,” is the reply he mutters under his breath as he follows Elsword, and “I’m fine like this,” is a statement said more to himself than to the other person in the room.

Elsword disapproves, clearly. “Don’t be like that, man,” he says, raises his fists again, gets into position, gestures for Chung to copy. Chung looks at the way his feet are positioned, the way his body arcs in a slight crouch, how his fists are leveled near his face, and hesitantly does his best to imitate it. He’s not being anything. He wasn’t. This was merely an agree to disagree matter, because Chung knows the destiny he’s given himself and the path he’s been given, and friendship and flowers were _not_ it.

Elsword was just being too pushy. He didn't know him.

* * *

“Do you need help with that?”

True to Daisy's predictions, Chung does indeed find himself in the library as soon as the next day. He shakes his head as he pulls a book out of a shelf four times his height with a slight grunt. Elsword perches himself on a floating table, crouching low with curious eyes and fingers brushing against the oak wood. He settles down carefully with his fingers grasping the table’s edges.

The god of fire seemed to have grown intent on following him around more often ever since the sea garden incident and the sparring match yesterday, trying to start up conversations here and there and throwing a barrage of questions at the sea god that always left him just a pinch more annoyed than before. Chung flips the book over, checking the title, and nods to himself before taking a seat in a chair to turn to the first page.

Elsword tilts his head to the side curiously and rests his cheek on his knee.

“So… whatcha got there?”

Chung spares a moment to look at him, observe the angle his head is tilted and the way he is perched atop the table, then goes back to flipping through pages.

“A visitor’s log,” he eventually says, drawing his finger across each written line in search for something, any kind of familiar holy or god-sworn name, “it’s a general record of every person that’s visited here to talk to the ruler, and their reasons for doing so.”

Elsword leans back, fingers still tight against the ends of the table, and lies down. “I’d be the most recent entry on that thing, right?”

The flutter of turning pages makes a sharp crescendo, then dies down to an immediate halt as the sea god stops on the last written page. He knows Daisy is usually in charge of these types of records, but he checks to be sure.

“Yes, you are…” he pauses before he can go on another word. He frowns.

Chung knows he hasn’t seen any guests since he took over. Gods kept to themselves, most of the time, and human prayers could be answered without requiring an audience with him. Practically sinking below the radar of other godly powers and wills, he’d kept the sea kingdom and himself quiet, not wishing to interact with others in fear of possibilities and consequences. There was only so long he could leave the oceans alone, and if the oceans went rampant, gods started noticing, and then too much attention would be on him and he’d have no choice but to reveal himself as the new sea god.

To boldly make such an action to so many people was an ill thought, to say the least.

But he was getting too self-absorbed in his thoughts here. It seemed to be a frequent thing ever since Elsword, god of fire, arrived, but it simply must be a series of moods occurring as a result of more frequenting social interaction. That, or he didn’t have enough work to do. His eyes make contact with the name above Elsword’s, the last guest that entered before Chung’s reign began.

“Ran…” He repeats the name to himself. Like running in the past tense? Who was this? He was usually always with his father, he’d at least recognize a visitor when he sees one and not having even the tingly feeling of familiarity with this name was a little—

Elsword rolls over slightly, body facing Chung at this point, “Who’s that?”

He realizes he had spoken aloud. Again. Which seems to always be the damn case when he’s around the fire god for _some_ unspoken reason. “…I don’t… know,” Chung forces out. There wasn’t any avoiding it, after all. Furrowing his brows together, he reads further across the line, “the reason for visiting isn’t recorded, either.”

His eyes drift down to the line under, where Elsword’s name was written in cursive. The blank next to the name matches that of Ran.

“…Yours is empty too,” Chung adds.

Elsword goes quiet. The table tilts slightly away with the way he rolls onto his side, back facing towards Chung. Suddenly, he sits up, says, “Let me see that,” and Chung obliges, reaching upward to where Elsword floated with the table. The god of fire, in turn, stretches his hand downward, his head just barely peeking out from over the table, and grabs the book, rolling onto his stomach to squint at the page.

Chung doesn’t think that’ll do anything meaningful, but hey, let the god of fire do his thing, he supposed.

“You haven’t had any real visitors for a couple of years, huh?” Elsword says, flipping through the book, “what are you looking for, anyway?”

“You ask too many questions.”

“‘Cause you don’t do a great job answering them.”

He glares at the fire god. What if he doesn’t want to? So what? It’s not any of Elsword’s damn business. But Chung knows host etiquette is to not curse or get aggressive at a guest, so he tightly purses his lips together and settles for the warning look. Elsword matches his glare a little too innocuously, fearless and daunting, challenging even, but eventually shrugs, “I mean, it’s your house so it’s your rules, I get that, but if we’re gonna be friends I’d like to know more about you, y’know?”

“What do you want to know about me?”

Elsword leans over the table more, letting his hand fall slack to pull the book away from his eyes, and watches Chung with that same, irritating look that wants to burn every wall Chung has built up for himself. He’s pensive, taking only a second to think with an index finger pressed against his cheek before grabs the table to not float away. He smiles, but his eyes don’t into the spritely mischievous glint when he was playing around, like that time in the throne room. It’s strong, this time. Strong and unfamiliar like he’s got a goal set in his mind and was going to throw everything into achieving it, reminiscent of the way his father firmly set his jaw and clenched his fist to the knit of his brows and shine in his eyes when he had a plan that would protect the sea.

“Everything, really.”

And he says it with such honesty that Chung can’t help but gawk at him. Blinks slowly, with slightly widened eyes, wearing on his lip as he forces himself not to say anything too crude back. They’ve barely known each other for more than a week, and Elsword had been making it a consistent endeavor to find the sea god and chat every day. Chung has a vague idea on how Elsword does it, considering his friendliness with the sea dwellers.

“…This is…” the sea god starts, wincing at himself in disbelief that he’s even caving in to Elsword’s implications, “the first time I’ve housed a god in the palace. I’m trying to find reference material to get some guidance.”

The annoying look on Elsword’s face softens into the usual light-hearted one Chung highly preferred. For one, it didn’t make him feel sick seeing it.

“That’s crazy, man,” Elsword answers, handing back the book. Chung takes it and immediately begins sifting through the pages again, “I mean about not a lot of gods having stayed here before. You’d think there’s been at least one by now with how long the ocean’s been around.”

“It makes sense,” Chung counters, pensive and wading deeper into his thoughts as he tries to find a name, something, _anything_ of familiarity and belonging to that of a god within the pages, “the sea is where we are at our strongest, after all. With the Harmony Festival every three years, gods always discuss things there.”

“We?”

His finger pauses between the pages.

“Oh!”

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t—

“Like you and your dad, right? I’ve been meaning to ask you something, actually!”

Chung refrains from outright pointing out that he literally just said Elsword asks too many questions. But according to Elsword, he ‘doesn’t do a good job of answering them.’

“How do you and your dad work? I mean, come on,” Elsword raises his eyebrow, propping his chin up with both his hands and the other still keeping him attached to the table, “You’ve talked about him a couple of times before, and that night on the shore I asked for the god of water, then you said, ‘that’s my father.’“

“You asked for him, but got me,” Chung finishes, letting out a stressed breath through his nose. He deadpans at the bubbles that float up above him from the action.

“…Yeah,” the god of fire confirms as if a breath had just been released from his throat, “so are there like, two sea gods or something? ‘Cause there’s you, then there’s—“

“I believe you’re misconstruing something here, god of fire.” Chung finally quips, sitting up. He firmly shuts the book in his hand, stands up on the seat, and kicks off of it to give Elsword a sharp frown. Elsword follows his eyes, clearly surprised.

“I’m not the sea god.”

Elsword’s silence as he absorbs the information is unnerving, to say the least. Chung gives him a moment to process that. He supposes it was an error on his part, not making it clear that he wasn’t quite the sea ruler and to not have any misinterpretations on Elsword’s part.

“Wait, how? You’re in charge of this place, aren’t you?” He doesn’t seem to buy it with the way his eyebrows crash down like waves hitting the shore, “You literally burst out of the water on a wave then threatened to drown me.”

“I am,” he sighs, placing his index and middle fingers over his temple with sealed eyes, “but my father is the true sea god. I’m merely substituting for the time being.”

“Then what was that big ass wave five times my height staring down at me all menacingly?!” Elsword retorts right back, sitting up. “I don’t know about you, but that kinda screams, ‘I have water controlling powers’, in my opinion.”

“It was to make sure you didn’t try to attack me,” he tries to keep his voice level, but Chung notices the strain of exasperation in his voice before he can contain it. He opens his eyes, though narrowed, to gauge Elsword’s reaction.

With the way his brows crease further downward, Elsword definitely caught that.

The fire god juts his lip out in a pout, obviously not satisfied with his answer, but groans and lets his head fall back onto the table, “Okay. Alright. If that’s what you say,” his grip loosens, his movements being only a mere shifting from hand to another hand on the table. What once was tightly gripping the oak wood edge was now on his stomach, but Elsword now avoided his gaze and stared at the ceiling of the library, “I’ll assume the only sea god here is your father,”

Don’t even bother assuming, because he _is_ the only sea god, Chung thinks to himself, but he’d rather not start an argument when they were simply at a point to agree to disagree. Chung would rather not see his temper tested.

“So where is he, anyway? You’ve brought him up a lot.”

And the problem is, Elsword, that Chung doesn’t even know _why_ he thinks and talks of his father when Elsword is around. He went in this arrangement with every intent to say as little as possible about his father, keep things in wraps and prevent them from lingering too much on the god of fire’s subconscious, but it seemed that Elsword’s mere presence was enough to make some slips of the tongue. It made no El-forsaken sense, for one, but trying to make sense of intangible things never solved problems anyway.

But of course, Chung refrains from saying all of that. He might spill like a drunkard about his father for whatever damn reason, but he still has control over most of his tongue. This time, at least.

“I don’t have any obligation to answer that,” Chung quips, perhaps a little too defensively than he would have liked, but the wound is still fresh and to have a god trying to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong is, quite frankly, _not_ a good look on someone so… objectively attractive.

“I guess,” Elsword’s voice lacks cheer, like a perfectly schooled neutrality Chung is able to figure out solely because he himself does it often, “I just feel like I might’ve seen him somewhere, and it’s kinda weird to be in the sea god’s palace yet not ever see the sea god himself.”

Chung grits his teeth. How crude. With a harsh grip on the book, he takes a seat on the table Elsword is laying down on, opens the visitor’s log to that last page where Elsword’s name had been recorded and hands it back over to him with as much of an unamused expression as he can muster.

“Listen, god of fire. You wanted to help, yes?”

Elsword turns his head to him. His visage is neutral as well, the lack of smile making itself far too known for Chung’s tastes.

“Why don’t you help me find any records on the one named ‘Ran’?”

Crimson eyes flicker from the book to cerulean, paw-printed ones in a repeating back and forth. The unsettling feeling hits Chung again, indescribable like usual besides that it feels as if Elsword were trying to read his mind with just his eyes. His fingers twitch, but Elsword eventually takes the book back and gets up from his resting position on the table with a grunt and stands up.

He looks up at the array of shelves, encasing them in a wide circle with many merely drifting about with symbols etched onto their wooden sides.

“You still suck at answering questions,” Elsword simply says, before kicking off towards a shelf some ways above Chung.

They both make a point to not look at each other. Chung doesn’t bother granting Elsword the right to a response.

  
It is only when he has to is when Elsword talks to him again, perhaps an hour or two later.

“I couldn’t find anything,” his voice falls completely flat when he swims back down to Chung’s side, placing his hands on the table where Chung had continued searching in the visitor log for any mention of a god.

“Wonderful,” he responds sarcastically in turn.

“Yeah. Wonderful,” Elsword’s got his brow cocked skyward again, “but I think I know where we could find information.”

“Let me guess,” Chung turns a page and continues reading, “you’re going to suggest we go meet some of your god friends as you've kindly recommended to me, just in time for the Harmony Festival.”

“Uh, _no,”_ and this time, it’s Chung that can hear the blatant offense in his voice, “that’s the last thing I wanna do right now. I was gonna say we should visit the human town, Hamel.”

Chung glances up. “Why Hamel? Elrianode is your home, isn't it?”

Elsword frowns, deeper than earlier, backing himself away from Chung and gesturing a nonchalant throw-away. A forget-about-it. “Huh? Why do you want to know? Hypocritical of you to ask me that.” He moves farther back, visibly fazed but face slipping into a stone-cold mask, voice practically pressed against the floor in monotone, "Not cool."

That seemed to finalize their conversation. Chung doesn’t move from his seat as Elsword makes haste, sees his way out, and leaves without so much as a word. As soon as he’s left sight, Chung waits a couple more moments before letting out a drawn-out, annoyed groan, hand covering his face. When he sees only black, he sees the shadow of a looming figure, blurred from five years of passing time, walking out of the gates and never coming back. A period of torrential waves, left alone and in need of takeover, before finally, some stupid kid finally took the pedestal and barely kept the seas contained in his hands. He stood alone, and intends to keep standing alone, for the seas must not be domitable.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsword offers a deal.

Chung receives word from the other gods for the first time in three years through a crisp, perfectly rolled scroll.

“You’ve got a letter,” the papyrus passed over to him is sharp, smartly put together with a diamond-braided string keeping it together. Chung squints at Elsword as the scroll passes between their hands, the two of them resting from a session of close combat training.

Elsword was... experienced when it came to melee. Chung hates to admit it, how Elsword’s constant chatter and tendencies to veer off into different directions of topics filled the air and how despite it all, he had his head screwed on right when it came down to it. Perhaps it was in the simplicity of his methods with the manner that he reduces everything to select few words and ridiculous comparisons, but either way, he still found himself steadier on his feet and stuck listening to every forceful shift of the shoulders, “Stagger your feet more, uh, both feet same direction too,” and Chung thinks he feels fear for the first time in five years.

Not because Elsword was even a scary teacher, but his touch sent off all the wrong signals.

No, not _those_ kinds of signals. These were invariably different compared to his contact with others, maybe even figures from the past, but they were in stark contrast to the cold he was acclimated to at this point, and the temptation to fall back into younger habits had always suddenly surged forth with the god’s presence. It was a haunting kind of warmth that had him staring up at marble ceilings for longing periods, tightly balling his cloak into his fists as he reminds himself that it was useless to float back into the remembrances of yesterday years.

And, again, he refuses to bring it up to Elsword. Instead, he asks, “I may assume you volunteered yourself to give me this in Daisy’s stead?”

Not to mention he had been tight-lipped last they spoke. He reassured himself by repeating that Elsword retaliated back in similar mannerisms, got equally defensive when Elrianode was put into mention. It was fair and square.

“She’s pretty busy with some kinda plan to get Rod Ross to look at her. So she told me to give this to you ‘cause I was on my way here anyway.”

Chung has an idea of where this is going. He’s known, with the way Rod Ross behaves, that many women have sought for him. And unfortunately so, someone as effective as Daisy was _enamored_ with Rod Ross to a point of no return. Enamored to where she had an objective to use all of her free time pining and chasing after his coattails and if using the fire god meant having more free time, she might do just that.

“And I... wanted to say I’m sorry. For the other day in the library. So I brought the letter to you.”

The face Chung made must’ve been repugnant, for Elsword immediately waves his hands in front of him and adds, “I-I mean, I was a little harsh, so...!”

“You’re fine,” Chung sighs, signals to stop before Elsword goes any further, “don’t make a mess over it. However,” disdainfully he looks down at the scroll in his hands, “I hope you know your worth is more than this. You are a god. It’s embarrassing to be an errand boy for another god’s assistant.”

Elsword awkwardly shrugs, refusing to look in the same area as the sea’s ruler, “It’s good to help people.”

Chung tugs at the string, the knot coming undone, “Yes, but to do it so much? Many will consider you a pushover.”

“Does it matter? It’s making sure they’re feeling comfortable that counts...” the fire god’s voice dies off as he watches Chung unfurl the scroll and run his eyes over it.

_Helputt, God of the Seas,_

_This is a reminder of the upcoming—_

Harmony Festival. His vision blurs before he folds the letter neatly back together and tucks it back into the envelope in what he hopes appeared to be smooth, practiced movements. Even if his fingers trembled as he moved, shaking from tip to palm as he tells himself he could do it just like last time. Would do just like last time. It would make no difference. An empty chair again meant little compared to the presence of a dozen minus one enlarged egos. He even knew this was coming eventually. It’s been one of the elephants in the room for days by now, Chung anticipating it at any point, yet when it comes it cracks down with a challenge Chung is far too repentant and reluctant to answer.

“You uh, okay there?”

Red eyes and red hair pop into view.

“Yes. Forgive me; I should have handled that in a more private setting,” Chung says, a slight tremor in the back of his throat. He swallows thickly, perturbed by the visibility of his actions.

Elsword cranes his body. Arching to get a better look at Chung’s face, he asks, “Wanna talk about it? I know god business can break you in the ass sometimes.”

Chung grimaces at the disregard of their prior discussion in the library. “I’ll be alright. We’ve discussed this before. I am not a god.”

“You’re still handling god-related matters,” the fire god places his hand on his shoulder, “they’re real damn messy, let me tell ya as one of them.”

Chung tenses, feels that same flaring shock course through his veins and that same warmth from before. The warmth that felt so incredibly nostalgic, coaxing him to relax his tensed muscles, a whisper of a calloused hand and kind blue eyes telling him to settle down that he does exactly the opposite and knocks Elsword’s hand away, the scroll fluttering to the ground with the motion. Elsword doesn’t comment, but his lips make a sharp curve downward.

Still, Chung confesses. “It’s the invitation for the Harmony Festival,” he spills in a one-breathed rush, gripping the shoulder Elsword touched and staring holes into the ground, “You probably got a notice too back in Elrianode.”

Elsword places his hands behind his back balances on the heels of his feet, body swaying back and forth in a subtle pendulum, “Oh, right. Yeah, probably. Probably, yeah. Not my thing, honestly.”

Chung finds himself letting out a relieved exhale as if the water had suddenly turned from torrential to still, “Me neither,” he agrees, easily.

“Glad we can agree on that much. Now that I think about it,” Elsword moves in closer, squinting, “last year, the sea god’s throne was vacant. Remember the library? I said I thought I saw him somewhere, and I got it. I saw your dad at some Harmony Festival. Knew my memory didn’t fail me when I thought the sea god had huge ass arms.”

“Yes, I’d be perplexed if you didn’t recall anything of my father considering his position,” Chung mutters, thinking all the while. Elsword, the god of fire, had seen his father at previous Harmony Festivals. But Chung was no stranger to attending, his father took him some years and others Chung stayed behind. How was it that Chung only knew Elsword by name?

“I had to substitute last year because your dad wasn’t there.”

Oh. The water feels frigid again. “I...I apologize for that, then,” and it’s sincere, sincere as he can make it be because Chung apologizes for his cowardice more than anything and buries the lack of surprise that someone took his father’s spot that year. Along with it, he buried the clams in his throat at the fact that the one who replaced his father was right next to him. Who just so happened to be just as young as him. Wonderful, like wasn’t an addition to the already sickening feeling Elsword gave.

“Ah, it’s no big deal,” the fire god throws his hands behind his head and shrugs, staring at a wall, “I used to be on the council. Actually...”

Distracted, he notes the words in his head. He doesn’t think he recalls a time where he saw Elsword in the council. But he also doesn’t recall any time he’s even seen Elsword in general. He had always followed where his father went the times he attended the Harmony Festival, but he was bound to have seen Elsword at least once if the god of fire had once been one of the major gods with a seat in the meetings.

Elsword brings him back from falling deeper into his head with a brush of the shoulders. “…You gotta show that to your dad, don’t you? Is he coming this time?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Can’t…” the fire god gives an exasperated look, “dude, he’s your dad. I know you have this thing for hiding answers, but you can’t say anything to that either?”

“I can’t,” Chung reaffirms and shakes his head.

Running a hand through his hair, pulling his bangs up through the slots between his fingers, Elsword mutters incoherently under his breath. His shoulders tense before slumping downwards. “How about you attend in your father’s place? I dunno if he’s going or not, but if he’s going, then you can watch, and if he isn’t, then you can just substitute. You’re curious what it’s like to it be in the council, aren’t you?”

 _What in the seven seas?_ Was this mockery of all of the trials his father had been through to become so powerful? That suddenly, Chung, one of the youngest beings, was good enough to simply sit on his father’s throne and steal his title? “No,” he says sharply, shaking his head, “I’m not. I’ve never been on the council before, and I don’t care enough to want to know. I’d only sully the name of the seas in doing so.”

“Don’t have to be.”

“Furthermore, my father is what they’ll expect,” Chung continues with an insistence that brings a rush into his veins, fueled and determined to stay where the sea is. Elsword looks taken back, surprise showing on his visage before it settles for nonchalance, “not his weaker, smaller son.”

Elsword blinks slowly at first. Quiet. “I don’t get it, guess you’re right,” he finally tosses out the words like birdseed. Chung only bites down on his tongue harder, “they’d be surprised if you showed up instead of your dad. But, Chung, seriously,” he swings his arms back by his sides, then arches them back up to land squarely on both of Chung’s shoulders this time, “missing multiple Harmony Festivals is bad news. You’ve got the powers to be a convincing sea god. You run the sea kingdom. You’re the son of the _sea god!_ I can back you up to it that your powers are no bluff, either.” A mere shift in posture and Elsword has his arm around Chung’s shoulders casually, gesturing toward the wide room in front of them, “I don’t know where your father is, so this is just what I think’s the best thing to do.”

“What are you, my advisor?” Grumbling, he musters the force to shove Elsword away. He takes two, three, four steps back while rubbing at the spot Elsword had touched him. The cooling chill of his fingers r easily wipes away the residue of warmth and campfire scent from his skin, scattering with the ocean in only seconds.

Yet still, it chases him, for Elsword rounds up to him even when he turns away, hands expressive and eyes desperately eager, “Come on, consider it! You _know_ how significant attending this is for the big gods. I’m sure your dad especially knows how important it is.”

In the half-truth, Chung has half the mind to point out that it isn’t as important as it’s made out to be. If anything it was more like a big stupid reunion every three years. On the other hand, he finds himself busy scrambling to fight down the surge of emotions boiling in his stomach, only keeping silent. He doesn’t respond to the various expressions Elsword shifts from the longer the silence draws out, but by the time the fire god seems to settle for concern because it had to be _worry_ of all things for someone like Chung, he pointedly avoids looking at the fire god. “Forget it. I told you, you ask too many questions. We’ve wasted enough time talking about pointless things.”

“No,” Elsword counters, strength in his words potent enough for Chung to instinctively take a step back in response, “this isn’t pointless for me.”

Not pointless, if only because Elsword just had to have some way to not concur. Was it Elsword’s new hobby to go against him? “Then we’ll have to agree to disagree,” Chung retorts defensively, drawing his chlamys cloak over himself with crossed arms and shifting feet, ready to move.

“Sure, but I think you’re usually honest,” Elsword completely ignores what Chung had just said and makes a lunge for the heart with his words, “I don’t like your excuses and your stupid tendencies to dodge my questions, but I buy them most the time. Call it a gut feeling. You liked your dad a lot, didn’t you?”

It comes out a little more miffed than Chung hoped it to be, and he’s even starting to think he should just get used to it. At this rate, he might never take the tone and control he wants around Elsword. “Obviously, seeing the way you seem to keep prying these things out of me,” he replies as his father still haunts his dreams, his head, his thoughts, and even his steps in this castle. Chung only ever recalled his father when they were happy and lively and full of ignorance in the seas, his memories filled to the brim with times bright and beautiful, then he did. Like was not even a strong enough word to describe the familial love for the sea god that had raised him through centuries gone and passed.

Elsword makes a small noise of recognition to his response, “But I can’t see him. You’re not selfish; you helped me out of that garden trap thing and you let me stay here. So that means something’s gone wrong with him, right? You’re not lying when you say you can’t tell me, but you aren’t telling me why is all.”

Shit. The look on his face must have given it away before he shuts his mouth. All he needs to hear is the barely hidden intake of breath from the fire god to force his eyes shut and curl in on himself slightly. What would he do now? Elsword seems only to pry more and more and what’s most worrisome— it works. It works when they brush hands, bump into each other, collide fists, for each time Chung sees reflections of the past and an ocean of longing desperately trying to breathe through his lungs.

“Okay. Okay, that’s all I’ll ask for now. I’ve got an idea, then.”

Chung grits his teeth. There was nothing he could do if Elsword wasn’t going to do anything, and from the way he pressed on, he’s confident the god wouldn’t budge even if Chung ordered it so. He tries to burn holes into Elsword’s skull with his eyes alone.

(It doesn’t work.)

“What is this… _idea_ of yours, then?”

Elsword grins lopsidedly, but his eyes tell a different, braver and more resolved story. “So hear me out.”

Chung stares impassively instead.

“We have about a week before the Harmony Festival starts, right?” Elsword places a hand on his hip, the other jerking a finger skyward casually, “Invitations go out around that time and you’ve got yours on the floor. So let’s make a… compromise. Nah, a deal, maybe.”

“You want to make a deal with me?” Chung observes Elsword’s face. The only thing he notices is a faint gleam of light in the fire red of his irises, and that it doesn’t match the way only a part of his lip curls up.

“Give me— us— a week to get your father to attend the Harmony Festival.”

“Excuse me?” If Elsword didn’t make Chung’s jaw drop earlier, this may just be the perfect guide to his jaw truly, utterly falling slack.

The only thing he gets is Elsword’s strong nod of affirmation, “The problems going on with your father— let’s fix them. Together. Before the Harmony Festival starts. I’ve got time, and you can probably give yourself a week off because you run this place, we can both make space to give a serious look.”

“Do you truly think I haven’t tried what I could?” Chung clenches his fists, firmly planting his feet into the ground before he takes the steps required to clock this god right in the cheekbone, “I’ve already done multiple searches in the entire seven seas to find him, and if you truly think you can make more progress than me in only a wee—“

“ _We_ can,” Elsword interrupts immediately, taking a step forward first, “you said you’ve only checked the sea, but we can check the land. Human civilization, land gods, debris, all of those can give us some ideas.”

“You wouldn’t understand—“

“‘You wouldn’t understand’,” Elsword echoes back, rolling his eyes as his voice takes on a shameless, maidenly trill and satirization of the man in front of him.

He ought to throw this god out of his territory. Or remove the spell over his lungs and make him drown by opening the sealed windows. “For a guest, you seem to constantly flick back and forth from respectful to incredibly offensive to your host,” he says before he can bring up what he thinks about doing.

“Do you want to know why?” Elsword cocks an eyebrow at him.

He won’t talk about himself and Elrianode, but he would talk about himself and Chung. As if talking about them right now was much, much easier than talking about home. And maybe it was; Chung knew there were situations like that somewhere. That seemed to be the case here. “Yes, it would truly help me know how I’m to coexist with someone like you.”

Instead, the fire god laughs. Laughs it off, loud and from the bottom of his stomach. He shakes his head, “Coexist? Come on, that’s pretty harsh. I’m trying to be uh, convincing! Yeah. Serious and convincing, like someone I know. It’s pretty obvious, but I’ll answer your question if you agree to the deal.”

“And if I don’t accept the deal?”

“Then I go and try to find your dad myself if only to tell him hey, I’m the fire god and I’m staying in the palace your son is single-handedly running alone. Say, ‘maybe you should visit sometime, he’s doing an awesome job.’ Simple. Then ask some questions like why he’s put his son in a situation where he can’t answer anything related to his dad who he just _adores_ so much.”

The fact that Elsword was willing to do this was stupid, impressive, and terrifying all at once. Stupid, because Elsword should damn know well the position he is in at all times, impressive because Chung was little above an acquaintance yet he still desires to help, yet terrifying for his resolve to maintain the sea’s image “I’ll have you removed from this place,” Chung threatens.

Elsword visibly winces.

“…But I’ll accept it,” he says it before he can shove the words back in his mouth, turning away from Elsword and covering his mouth from red-cheeked shame at himself, “because I have to admit I also feel regret for how I treated you in the library. I hope you’ll answer my questions and decide carefully on how we act from here.”

This time, it’s Elsword that stands there with wide eyes. “Oh,” he says, rather dumbly at that, too, because he doesn’t move from his position, “I didn’t think you had it in you to say that, honestly—“

Insult to injury is applied, “What did you take me for? Someone crass?”

“No, no,” Elsword is smiling again, brighter and face alighting with idealism and purity that takes Chung back to the past for a moment again, of when he had such a similar expression. “I’m really glad. Glad that my instincts truly aren’t wrong, is all.”

“Your instincts?” he deadpans, removes his hand from subtly obscuring his mouth, readjusts the crown on his head. His damn gut? Really? It feels almost like a more sorry excuse than Chung’s own for his faults in the seas.

“Yeah,” Elsword puts his hands together and directs his fingers towards the other, “it’s like a sixth sense to me. Everyone’s got instincts, but I like to think mine are special.”

“Special how?” He finds himself asking, thinks back on the shocks of warmth and scent of campfires that Elsword faintly radiated, how his presence seemed to glow within the sea and how the red of his eyes had a similar effulgence upon that rainy beach shore night.

Rather than provide an answer like Chung had just asked for in exchange, Elsword clicks his tongue, waves his finger teasingly, “It’s hard to explain, so I’ll tell you another time. Promise,” his posture suddenly dips, fists raised and feet shifting with one behind the other, “you said it yourself. We’ve wasted enough time, haven’t we?”

Chung imitates him, much more easily than the last time they had a long-winded conversation like this, and nods, “I’ll be the one to judge what you decide to do about this deal.”

So he wonders, in the back of his mind, as he takes a step back before lurching forward and swinging his fist, how exactly Elsword plans to find a man who had vanished five years ago. A man who had loved the seas so fully, that abandoning it without a trace would have been the very last thing he had done.


End file.
